


binawi buhay mo nang walang sabi

by kamwashere



Category: Goyo: Ang Batang Heneral (2018)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Coda, English with Filipino/Spanish dialogue, GRECENTE, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Period Typical Attitudes, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:54:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22198162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kamwashere/pseuds/kamwashere
Summary: It was true, what they said about the Boy General; about how he broke hearts and left without a warning.-A coda to Goyo: Ang Batang Heneral.
Relationships: Gregorio del Pilar/Vicente Enriquez, Gregorio del Pilar/Vicente Enriquez (one-sided)





	binawi buhay mo nang walang sabi

It wasn’t the words that made Vicente stop, it was what came after. 

‘El General esta muerto!  _ El General esta muerto! _ ’

It was the ringing in his ears as the bullet passed him. It was the loud pounding in his chest as his troops —  _ Goyo’s troops _ , drop dead in front of him. It was the way the world seemed to stop — no, his world — everybody seems to go on. Everyone else seems to not dwell on it longer.

He. He couldn’t be.

Goyo couldn’t die.

He closes his eyes, and holds his breath, his heart — his ever traitorous heart seemed to spill out of his body. Then, Vicente becomes too aware of the blood. Of the shells of bullets scattered on the ground. Of his tight grip on his rifle’s handle.

This is war. This is unadulterated, unending battle for freedom. For justice. For the mother country.

‘—tay na si Goyo! Tapos na ang laban!’ He hears some of Goyo’s soldiers belt out, and he snaps his eyes open. Some of them are dragging each other, these  _ cowards _ , started leaving their arsenal in the grass and bolting away from the crossfire. ‘Hoy!’ Juan stands up, indignantly grabbing a fleeing soldier’s arm, ‘Hoy, saan kayo pupunta, mga duwag?!’

Vicente feels the hot, angry tears escape from his eyes as he grabbed his revolver, hears the familiar click and pointed it to the general direction in front of him. He rises slightly from his squat and rests his knee on the ground. ‘Mamatay na ang tatakas!’ He yells out, voice scratchy. 

War is no time for cowardice. Or grief.

‘Vamonos, vamonos!’ A Spanish soldier grips his left arm and hauled him away from the altercation. He was also the one who delivered the news of Goyo’s death. (Tel.. Telesforo, was it? He’s bad at remembering names.) 

Before he lets himself get dragged by this thin lad, he turns and promptly dodges the bullet that flew past his arm. Gravely, he aims his rifle at a random American soldier. He sucks in a breath, and narrows his eyes, determined not to miss. He applies pressure on the trigger, thinks,  _ ‘Para kay Goyo ‘to, gago.’  _ and releases. A perfect shot to the head. Vincent doesn’t even feel remorse.

Instead, he feels a numbing sort of sensation. The feeling of a shiver, of a tremble. Not because he’s afraid but because it’s so  _ unfair.  _ It’s unfair because they’re the only ones standing between these goddamn Americans and the innocent bystanders across Pasong Tirad. It’s unfair because his country is going to succumb in the hands of the colonizers. Again. It’s unfair because he doesn’t know where the fuck Goyo is. He doesn’t know where his corpse lies as Americans come marching down the Pass. It’s unfair because he doesn’t even get to say goodbye.

But this is war, saying goodbyes is a luxury they could never afford.

He sighs, lower lip trembling and aims again. He shoots again, the fires of pellets becomes something akin to white noise as seconds turns to minutes. If he gets out of here alive, he will not rejoice. Perhaps it is better to die on duty, serving your beloved country than to live seeing it slowly be turned into a kernel for dogs. 

But still, he fights. He shall struggle until the very last blood of a Filipino spill on the top of this mountain because  _ Goddammit,  _ he fucking loves his country and he’s not gonna let some foreigners stop him.

* * *

His body was found by an American. Vicente did not care to know his name. 

When the heat of the battle has subsided, him and the others have dragged the corpses of their fallen troops to post so even their bodies are void of life, they could come to their families. He didn’t want to think about the loved ones these men left behind but as he and the others have their lifeless bodies in tow, there was only one thought that stubbornly refuses to leave his mind.

They brought his corpse after three days, and he was wearing nothing but his undergarment. For a second he wonders why, but then he had a horrifying realization that these.. these degenerates must have robbed Goyo clean when they found his body. He should be more angry, and honestly he’s surprised he isn’t.. at least not much. Right now, all he could see is Goyo. 

He still looked the same, but limp. There were no blemish or wounds on his face, except for a small bruise on his forehead. The bullet wound on his neck is visible and dried up now. The smell of his rotting flesh made his nose turn up and his stomach turn but Vicente could not turn away, even if he wanted to. 

He still looked the same. Timeless, and youthful. Still so handsome, even though death has already claimed him. He could almost see the brown eyes, speckled like dirt behind its lids. He will never see them open again. His lips are dried and chapped, and Vicente will forever rue for the opportunity that was, and now never will be given to graze his own with his now dead, cold lips.

He closes his eyes and tries to level his voice. He will not grieve over Goyo like some war maiden. ‘I-handa ang labi ng Heneral,’ he claims, impressed with himself that his voice still sounded hard like steel.

They have lost many people; the lives of these dauntless, spirited legionnaires are irreplaceable. They have dedicated, no,  _ offered _ their lives in a silver plate for the country and he couldn’t be prouder at their fallen warriors. He also couldn’t be more sorrowful for lives lost during the battle.

Sure, some of them hesitated. Tried to flee, even. But those who truly stood up for the country, they were the real heroes. He should have been one of them. He didn’t deserve to survive. Not when other people lost theirs fighting alongside him. He should have been one of them. He should have—

‘Nasaan ang labi niya?’ asked Felicidad, eyes brimming with tears still waiting to be cried. Not trusting himself to speak, he points at rubble of rocks above Goyo’s corpse.

‘Es que la novia del General?’ 

There it is again. That familiar pang. His voice almost stuttered when he answered, ‘No, ella vive en Dagupan.’ 

Vicente’s gaze flickers back to the President’s beloved daughter, Felicidad who is mourning Goyo in his wake, knees buried in the grass and tears flowing freely like a raging river. Her quiet, heaving sobs resonates in his ears. Her body is trembling, and he wanted nothing more than to console her. To quiver with unshed tears, and bury his face on his motionless chest. 

He supposes that no one in this world that could understand her more than him, and he wished he could let her know. Both of them knew Goyo, and cared for him more than anyone else. In some way, they are alike.

Neither of them was Goyo’s sweetheart.

* * *

When he returns to Dagupan, fresh from war, finding Remedios was the first thing Vicente sought to do. In his brown leather messenger satchel contains Goyo’s journal filled with writings from his various female correspondents, journal entries about his private, most intimate thoughts, and lastly the only letter he wrote back to a woman.

He had to..  _ talk _ to those Americans who raided Goyo when he died. The fucking disrespect — the audacity to rob a man when he cannot fight back. It’s spineless, is what it is. He had to trade something of his just to get Goyo’s journal back.

He stops at the rusty-colored, and considerably, the grandest mansion in Dagupan and home to one of the wealthiest in Pangasinan. The city is bustling with movement and chatter, as if they hadn’t just lost their beloved general. As if they hadn’t just lost to the Americans. But Joses’ household is quiet, almost as if in mourning. He takes a step forward, raises his fist, and knocks the wooden door with his knuckles. A chilly gust of wind kissed his skin, as he listens to the tell-tale sound of feet stomping down. The gate opens, revealing the young face of one of Remedios’ sisters, Dolores. ‘Ano po ang kailangan nila?’ She asks politely.

He clears his throat. ‘Nandyan ba ang ate mo, si Remedios?’

Dolores regards him carefully, albeit suspiciously. ‘Manliligaw ho ba kayo?’

Vicente almost laughs. ‘Wag ‘kang mag-aalala, naangkin na ng iba ang aking puso,’ he smiles tightly. ‘Ipamimigay ko lang ang nararapat para sa ate mo,’ He opens his satchel and lets the young girl peek inside. She smiles shyly.

‘Makikita mo po siya malapit sa batas.’

* * *

Remedios was standing in front of the lake, her eyes looked faraway. The shining waters illuminate her delicate, fair skin and the sunken sun casts a saturated light on everything it touches. Vicente takes a deep breath and walked towards the lady. He clears his throat. 

Remedios glances back at him and gives him a polite nod. ‘Koronel Enriquez, ano po ang maipaglilingkod ko sa iyo?’

Vicente looks at her in the eyes. ‘Pinauubaya ko lang ho sana ito sa iyo.’ He hands her the journal. ‘Ako ay nakikiramay.’

For a second she looks confused as she slowly takes one of Goyo’s loved posession. But as it dawns on her, she takes a stuttering breath and closes her eyes. Her grip on the journal tightens. None of them speaks for a while until Remedios gasps out, ‘Salamat, Koronel.’

Vicente nods stiffly. ‘Maiwan na kita.’ He turns back and starts walking. He was five steps away when all of a sudden, Remedios speaks again.

‘Magkatulad lang tayo, hindi po ba, Koronel?’

Vicente stops. He turns his head, ‘Paano pong katulad?’

Remedios smiles sadly, like she knows something he didn't. Vicente smiles back, and turns away again. He starts walking, his heart heavier than it has never been before. Once he was far enough, he sneaks a glance to the girl. She sat under the shade of the tree and starts turning the page with shaky hands. 

It was true, what they said about the Boy General; about how he broke hearts and left without a warning.

**Author's Note:**

> title is from di na muli by itchyworms
> 
> wow, this has been sitting in my drafts for almost a year. this was the result of watching goyo on netflix for the first time and having my heart broken by my poor boy vicente and his obvious crush on goyo. i hope y'all enjoyed, i guess?
> 
> ALSO;;; kakapalan ko na mukha and promote my noli fic, [only fools fall (for you)!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10567902) it's an elias/ibarra soulmate!au :D 
> 
> thank you for reading!
> 
> come scream about grecente/goyo movie with me on [tumblr!](https://kamwashere.tumblr.com)


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